


Fifty Five Kinds of Kisses

by delusionalintrospection



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Awkward Carlos, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil and Dana are BFFs, Cecil is Inhuman, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Fluff, POV Carlos, POV Cecil, Prompt fic type thing, Protective Carlos, Protective Cecil, Scientist Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Self-Conscious Cecil, a little bit of angst, self-conscious Carlos, snippits, sort of, welcome to nightvale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalintrospection/pseuds/delusionalintrospection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fun little self-challenge based on Alex's tumblr post a while back. Shameless fluff with a little angst mixed in, maybe some whump or h/c but these snippits are all generally light and fluffy. </p><p>There is more then one way to kiss, and more then one meaning behind it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tears and Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> So I was bored and decided that I would do another thing. This is taken from this- 
> 
> http://acrosc.tumblr.com/post/75645335321/kissing – 
> 
> post, which is a great list for inspiration, and while I'm sure you're only supposed to pick one or two, I decided that it might be fun to do a short little thing around each prompt. 
> 
> Also, if you like this, I do take writing commisions! I have a huge and varied amount of fandoms I enjoy, and I'm always willing to check out something I'm not if you want me to write something for you! I'm also 100% willing to write you something origional, or help with a project. I do have a paypal account, and prices are totally, 100% negotiable! Longer works will go for a little more, and shorter ones for less, bit I have no set price I am asking.
> 
> Just send me a message here or at my tumblr (preferably my tumblr) with what you're looking for. :3

Carlos isn't really the type to apply the word _cute_ to much of anything or anyone, except say a child or a puppy or some such. And even then, he tends to lean more towards words like _endearing_. But to his surprise, cute is a word that springs to mind often and easily around Cecil. He's bouncy, playful, spacey, absent-minded, enthusiastic, and _cute as hell_ . His smile is crooked and dimpled, his hair is almost always a mess, his fashion sense is outdated and charming. He sings loudly in the shower, he plays in the rain, he cuddles pillows when Carlos isn't next to him. He cries over movies for hours, he tries to cook dinner and burns it horribly, he makes bubble baths that are more bubble then bath. He is charming, and quirky, and _cute._ And Carlos can't resist the urge, sometimes, to pull him into his arms and kiss his forehead, soft and gentle, sometimes. There is nothing sexual in it; it is just a brush of lips against skin, loving, tender, and Cecil blushes and ducks his head, smiles that beautiful smile, and peeks up from under long lashes shyly. “You,” Carlos tells him “are very, very cute.” And Cecil will laugh, and press his face into Carlos's chest, and it takes his breath away how much he loves this man.

* * *

 

Cecil is a toucher. Light, affectionate contact, constantly; he has no real sense of personal space. Even with people not Carlos, he tends to be very physical. He hugs, claps shoulders, loops his arm around people casually, will grab you and pull you behind him without thinking about how it might upset you not to be insensitive but simply because he doesn't think about it.

Carlos loves it- has learned to love it. At first he spooked away from it slightly, not used to it, not sure how to react. That hurts, and it's obvious; Cecil actually asks him if he'd like him to stop touching him so much in a shy, tiny voice, and Carlos feels about an inch tall. But they are, luckily, able to talk to each other like grownups, and he explains that no, he's just- not used to that, Cecil, that's all. _I like it, though._

Cecil touches the back of his hand lightly, or his shoulder; will play with his hair absently, or drape over him like a sloth.

But Carlos's favorite thing by far is Cecil's little, loving kisses. He'll bend slightly (because Carlos is actually several inches shorter) and peck him, lightly, on the cheek. Always on the cheek. Always quick. Before bed, before work, sometimes just to say hello, sometimes for no reason at all.

Those are the best ones.

* * *

 

The first time they kissed, Carlos was almost too afraid to go for it. But Cecil looked so shy, and unsure, so dejected and nervous and what could he do but lean over and kiss him. Just softly, as Cecil said. It had been dry and close-mouthed, and it hadn't lasted long, but Cecil had melted under it. The second time Cecil had moved first, and it had been considerably more sexual; open mouthed and hot. Cecil tasted of mint and chocolate, and his lips had been remarkably soft, and the sounds he made were beautiful. Cecil kissed the way he did everything else; enthusiastically and whole heartedly. He still does; no matter how many times they kiss, Cecil acts like it's the first.

* * *

 

Carlos is ticklish. Cecil knows this because when they are sitting together on the sofa, watching a movie, he turns his attention away from the screen and turns it to pressing kisses all over every inch of Carlos he can. When he gets to Carlos's ear, the man jumps, swatting at the sensation and accidentally belting Cecil in the face, who falls over laughing as Carlos apologizes madly. It becomes one of his favorite things to do; kiss Carlos's ear just to make him squirm or jump, laugh at him as he makes faces and snaps at Cecil to _stop, you brat_ \- with barely restrained laughter. Carlos laughing is The Best Thing in Cecil's world.

* * *

 

When Cecil cries, Carlos will gently kiss his tears away and then press kisses to his eyelids. It's light and gentle, and they stay resting with foreheads together until Cecil calms. It's the first time anyone's ever done that, and Cecil is touched by the sheer tenderness of the act.

And when Cecil wakes one night in the middle of the night to find Carlos leaning on the sink, tears falling and shoulders shaking, he doesn’t ask what's wrong or what happened. He simply takes Carlos's strong, perfect, beautiful jaw in a pale hand and kisses away the tears, and presses gentle butterfly kisses to each eyelid. It always calms Cecil down. Carlos only cries harder, but he smiles, and Cecil is endlessly confused.

* * *

 


	2. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of you is imperfect, and all of you is beautiful.

 

Cecil has _beautiful_ hands. They are an artist's hands, a musician's, long and slender and graceful. Intricate tattoos cover the skin of them, like the rest of Cecil, and he's so verbal with them. He'll knock things off shelves if he really gets going. Sometimes, when they are tangled together on the couch or in the bedroom, Carlos will take Cecil's hand and kiss up the slender wrist, kiss the broad, slightly calloused palm, up each long finger. He'll work his way to the back, and by that time Cecil is usually giggling so hard he can't help but grin.

 

 

 

Sometimes Cecil will kiss the back of Carlos's hand playfully, before tangling his own fingers with his lover's shorter, stained, darker ones. He likes to kiss finger tips, too, usually laying in bed, one at a time, whispering stories of the day between each one.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Cecil kisses the tip of Carlos's nose, it surprises him so badly he blinks dumbly for nearly a full minute before he grins and returns the favor. It's one of Cecil's favorite things now, when Carlos leans over and presses a kiss to his nose. And one of Carlos's when Cecil's nose wrinkles cutely and he smiles brightly enough to illuminate every dark corner in the world.

 

* * *

 

 

The skin under his hands in smooth and pale, and the tattoos that swirl over it are deep and dark in tribal patterns and flowing designs. Freckles dot nearly every inch of it, and it smells of something like honeysuckle. He presses slow, lazy kisses to Cecil's shoulders, listening to the low hums of pleasure and taking pleasure in this simple action until Cecil finally rolls over and claims his mouth demandingly.

* * *

 

 

 

 

The skin under his mouth is smooth and dark, unblemished and unmarked. It's clear and smells clean and sharp, and it trembles under his touch like a skittish animal. Like he's not quite used to being touched in such a way, to having attention lavished on him like this. The collarbone is sharp and raised, and he lets his tongue dip down into the curve of it, rests lightly there to feel the pulse point, the race of Carlos's heartbeat. By the time Cecil is done, he thinks, being pampered will be something Carlos is _more_ then used to. But he hopes he can always make his lover's heart race like this.

* * *

 

 

He is covered in sweat and muck, and beside him Cecil is _soaked_ and head-to-toe mud. He is laughing, though, and so is Carlos, _thank God we're alive_ laughter and _Nightvale is insane_ laughter, and then Cecil turns to him and they are kissing, deep and open mouthed. And neither one cares that they smell like mud, or something musky and unidentifiable. Neither cares they are filthy and wet. They are riding a high of adrenaline and they are _alive_ , and each thinks the other is perfectly beautiful.

 

* * *

 

 

Carlos is surprisingly fit, for being A Scientist; his chest is toned and strong, and Cecil's lips skate over the dusky skin lightly. He loves the way Carlos is broad and solid, the way he is dark and smooth compared to Cecil, who is slender and lithe, freckled and pale. Carlos's skin always quivers gently under Cecil's touch, and his heart is pounding, steady and strong. That's the most reassuring sound to Cecil; Carlos's heartbeat. Sometimes he stops and simply presses his ear to it, and listens to Carlos breathe, and thinks that everything will be alright, so long that sound is always there.

 

 

 

 


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon phase always wears off. That doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Cecil is an odd duck. He's spacey, air headed, quirky, strange- Carlos loves it, of course. Loves him. But he's an odd duck, which is, perhaps, perfectly in keeping with Nightvale. Still, he can't help but throw his head back and laugh as Cecil presses a kiss to the tip of his dick, then up the shaft, giggling. It should be hot, it should be sexy, it should be a massive turn on- but Cecil is smiling so cutely and sweetly and it's so obviously playful that all Carlos can feel is love.

* * *

 

 Cecil's whining makes Carlos chuckle softly. “It's not that bad.” He tells his lover gently, even though he knows Cecil knows; the man just likes to be dramatic, sometimes. All the time. Admittedly, the cut on his knee looks painful- Cecil isn't the most _graceful_ of people, and the result this time is a pair of ripped pants and a skinned, bloody knee.

 

“It _hurts.”_

 

“I know.” Carlos laughs, finishes putting a bandage on the knee- then dips his head, lightly kissing the covered skin. Cecil makes a low, startled noise, then laughs softly.

 

“Did that help?” He asks, and Carlos grins, slightly awkwardly, up at him.

 

“I don't know. Did it?”

 

Cecil laughs again, bends to pull Carlos up by the front of his coat. “All healed.” He teases, and Carlos does _not_ say that he wouldn't be surprised to find the joke actually _truth_ in Nightvale. Instead, he lets Cecil kiss him softly, and spends the rest of the day applying follow-up kisses to the wounded body part.

 

And preventative ones to the rest, of course.

* * *

 

Cecil is long and lean, a powerful, graceful figure. Sometimes Carlos likes to start at one end and slowly kiss and touch his way up or down Cecil's body. He lingers on his legs- always on Cecil's legs. He loves them; going on for miles, surprisingly strong, and he will brush his lips over the inner thighs reverently, and wonder how someone so beautiful fell in love with someone like him.

* * *

 

Even Cecil gets sick. It doesn't happen often- the man has an immune system like steel, and Carlos imagines that's because Cecil isn't one hundred percent human. But despite that, he _does_ get sick, and he is _utterly horrible_ about it. He is whiny and pissy and generally malcontent with everything, and refuses to let Carlos so much as touch him. But Carlos is, luckily, patient and hard to annoy. He tends to Cecil as best as he knows how, grateful that it's only a cold and not something much, much worse.

God only knows what _could_ happen in Nightvale, and he's not all that eager to think about it. He brings Cecil medication and something light to eat on the second day of the cold. He's a lump of unhappy ill under the blanket, sniffling and groaning, radiating heat, and Carlos gently puts the bowl down on the table and brushes his hand over the hair he can see peeking out from under the blanket. He groans when he smells the food, curling around his stomach.

 

“You need to eat.” Carlos tells him, and Cecil makes a generally grumpy noise and curls up tighter. “Cecil.”

 

Cecil mews.

 

Carlos sighs.

 

“ _Cecil_.”

 

“I'm not _hungry_.”

 

“That's not what I said. I said you need to eat.” He gently pulls the covers down, and Cecil grabs the pillow and pulls it over his head.

 

“Come _on_ , Cecil. You don't want to be dry-heaving.” Carlos scolds gently, “and it's good for you.”

 

“Sleep is good for me. Dying in peace is good for me.”

 

“ _Stop_ that.” Carlos sits on the edge of the bed, and in surprised when Cecil rolls over and latches onto his middle. He hasn't let Carlos touch him since he got sick, after all, and when Carlos reaches back and wraps an arm around him, it's nice when Cecil just snuggles closer into his leg. He smiles and presses a soft, gentle kiss to Cecil's forehead, to his lips, hums comfortingly.

 

Cecil is terrible when he's sick, but Carlos is wonderful at taking care of him.

* * *

 

 

They clash. It's a tangle of lips and teeth and tongue, and Carlos finds himself in the disconcerting position of having Cecil overpower him. It doesn't usually happen- it almost never happens, Cecil doesn't even _try_ \- but Carlos isn't entirely sure it's _only_ Cecil driving the kiss. Which is a thought that should be more alarming then it is, but he's come to terms with the fact that his boyfriend isn't human, isn't necessarily alone in his head. So he doesn't waste energy thinking on it. Just surges up against Cecil's body, hisses when the taller man _bites_ into his lower lip sharply, tastes the copper tang of blood. “ _Cecil_.” He rasps, and Cecil moans in reply, and they war for a moment more before Carlos finds himself abruptly able to shove his lover back to the bed. Cecil grins up at him and licks his lips, and his eyes flash pupil-less and fathomless for a moment, the blue-purple of the void, the endless ancient depths of the deepest ocean.

 _God_ , he is beautiful.

* * *

 

 

 

Cecil likes to nip. He will kiss and suckle and then Carlos will feel teeth (that are perhaps just a _little_ sharper then they should be) sink into his skin. He's almost never broken it but for once or twice;

 

almost never been _that_ rough. He soothes the bites with tongue and lips, leaves Carlos marked with tiny bruises and scars that mean _this person is mine, and I am his_.

* * *

 

  
Carlos does not actually like to be licked. He's fine with almost everything else- biting, suckling, whatever- but he has never seen the appeal of someone slobbering on your body.

 

Still, when Cecil drags his tongue up the inside of his leg before whispering over his dick, playful and light licks like tasting something new and fascinating, teasing, quick...he decides he can accept it sometimes.

 

* * *

 

Cecil likes to leave marks. He likes to show them off, too; so it is not unusual for him to leave deep, dark hickies, starting off with slow, steady kisses to the shoulder or neck where they are bound to be noticeable and then biting and suckling at the skin. The fact that Carlos _moans_ , deep and beautiful, a rasping, growling sound of approval, doesn't exactly _discourage_ this behavior. Neither do his sweet blushes the next morning, when Cecil brushes his lips over the marks or tugs his own shirt open just a little more.

 

* * *

 

There are days when Cecil thinks Carlos should run screaming in the other direction. Days when he feels like a danger, when he feels unattractive, when he thinks he's a spoiled brat or getting on Carlos's nerves. When he feels stupid. When he thinks Carlos deserves someone better, braver, smarter, stronger.

 

These days, Carlos will be waiting for him when he gets home, and he will gently take Cecil's hand and undress him. They will shower, and Carlos will wrap him in fluffy, over-large towels. He'll help him into comfortable pj's, and they will pile on the couch with sappy romance movies and dinner and at some point, Carlos takes Cecil into his arms. Kisses him, slow and deep, lingering and luxurious. He will press those same, slow kisses all over Cecil's body, tracing those beautiful tattoos with his lips, lavishing those freckles each and every one. And he will whisper _how could I ever want anyone else, when I already have the very best?_

 

* * *

 

There is not always enough time in their day to see each other as much as they like. Eventually, of course, they move in together, but especially at first it is often hard. Even after they're living together, some days the most they can get is a quick hello good morning kiss before Cecil is bolting to the studio or Carlos is racing off to the lab with some new information, texting hurriedly on his phone. Sometimes Carlos will stop by the studio for a quick hello and they will share a peck then, or Cecil will drop by the lab bringing food because Carlos inevitably forgot to eat, and they will share a quick kiss or two.

 

And sometimes it is a quick, light kiss before bed. It's frustrating, sometimes, but in a strange way, they both like it, too. Because each and every light, gentle kiss is _I love you_ , loud and clear. And it's casual and quick and there is something so wonderfully natural and domestic in it.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 


	4. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the many ways it expresses itself.

They are in mortal peril a surprising amount of times; more usually Carlos, but sometimes Cecil. And when Cecil vanishes, when Strex is _here_ and in the studio and everywhere, in every corner of the town, in the aftermath of a failed rebellion, when Cecil vanishes Carlos is _terrified_. More terrified even for himself, and he knows he should be for himself, too. So scared that when he finally, _finally_ gets back, finds Cecil, when he finally, _finally_ can pull his lover in his arms, the kiss is hard and their teeth slam together and Cecil cries out in pain at the bruising force but doesn't let go, will never, ever let go again.

* * *

 

The first time Carlos meets Janice, he's a little nervous, a little shy. This is his lover's niece, a girl he is proud of and dotes on. He's not sure how he's supposed to act around her, what to do with his hands or with Cecil. It makes him feel a little better that Cecil seems just as awkward and unsure, though it hits him that they're both acting like skittish, shy pre-teens. Janice has seen people kiss, before, he's sure. So when they're walking along the sidewalk, at dusk, just enjoying each other and the evening (one of the few calm ones in Nightvale), Carlos leans over and kisses Cecil, chaste and light, and they smile at each other as Janice giggles.

 

* * *

 

They never fall out of love. Even as months pass, and they get through the 'honeymoon stage' and move into that part of the relationship where you notice each other's flaws and faults- they never fall out of love. No matter how long they are lovers, no matter how long they are partners, the emotions never fade, even if the passion shimmers down into a calm, peaceful contentment. And if either ever doubts it, even for a moment, the hands fisted in clothing and deep, searching, kisses are enough to remind them. Tongues tagging each other and arms wrapped around bodies that may put on a little extra weight over the years, may go a little more gray, but are always perfect and beautiful. Soft sighs of contentment, slow, lingering touches, quiet laughter and brilliant smiles. Kisses that say _no matter how old you grow, no matter what happens between us, I will always adore you. You are perfectly imperfect and you are wonderful_.

 

* * *

 

It has been weeks. Weeks of work and rebellion and stress and strain. They are exhausted and irritable; they are in pain, mentally and emotionally, spiritually, physically. So when they finally catch a break and are able to _be_ together, to see each other, they crash down on one another like waves on the shore, to be cliché. It is desperate and deep, _needy_ , frantic, hands fumbling at clothing and Cecil making tiny whimpering noises in the back of his throat, and the tattoos on his skin writhe and dance like water, shift and glide over his flesh and energy crackles in the air around him and it makes Carlos's hair stand up like he's caught in an electric storm. “ _Please_ ,” He says, low and throaty, and they are kissing again. And nothing matters after that. Not the exhaustion, not the pain or fear or worry. Nothing mattered but Cecil and Carlos.

 

* * *

 

Cecil is beautiful. Utterly beautiful, like this, squirming and writhing, lips kiss-swollen and bitten, hands fisting on sheets, back arched, neck straining. His hair is mussed, skin peppered with bruises and red marks, flushed deep red, chest heaving for air, throat working. He is needy, he is frantic, and Carlos has been teasing him for hours; light, playful kisses to every inch of skin. Sucking, nibbling, taking his time. Carlos isn't normally the kind to tease; never realized how lovely it could be; how lovely _he_ could be, trapped under him like this.

 

* * *

 

Cecil flies into his arms, leaps and is caught; Carlos is kissing him, open-mouthed and hot, Cecil's legs wrapped around his waist, Carlos's arms wrapped around his body, tangled together. Dana's laughter is delighted and echoes, and there is applause and cat-calls and they both _know_ they're still on air, and neither one cares. Neither one cares who sees, or who says what, and there are tears rolling down Cecil's cheeks and the glint of a ring on his index finger.

 

* * *

 

They kiss one way in public, and another in private. In public, Cecil kisses the way he does everything else; grandiose, showy, playful and spontaneous. In private, though, he is soft, gentle, shy, even timid. Like he can't quite believe it, can't quite believe Carlos is here, and real, and kissing him, and loves him.

* * *

 

 

Sometimes, Carlos is just tired and sore, and he needs to be laid flat on his back and _pampered_. Cecil is more then happy to be the one to do it. He will push Carlos down onto the mattress, will rub and massage along his stocky, powerful form. Will press kisses to his skin slowly and steadily, will not ignore any space. He moves up to the top of Carlos's balls, to the pelvic area and just below; somehow keeps it from being sexual. Just slow, gentle kisses and hands intent on soothing and relaxing him.

* * *

 

 

Carlos actually _squeaks_ and jumps when he is in the shower with Cecil behind him, when he bends to pick up to shampoo and Cecil mischievously places a kiss right on one butt-cheek, making him yelp and jump. He can only grin helplessly, because Cecil's laughter is fantastic.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes when they're sitting lazily next to each other, on the sofa or in public, Cecil will lift Carlos's wrist to his mouth. It's a light brush of lips over skin, just a soft, subconscious motion of affection. That's what Carlos likes best about it, he thinks; that Cecil doesn't _think_ about doing it, just does it, because he loves him. Cecil can be loud and vibrant, but Carlos likes these little, subtle moments best.

* * *

 

 

 


	5. Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joy, sorrow, anger, peace- love is sharing them all.

One of the very best sounds in the world is Cecil laughing. Really _laughing_ , not chuckling or snorting but head thrown back, gasping for air, belly laugh. It fills their small apartment now, rich and echoing off the walls as Carlos tickles him, play-wrestling their way across the living room. Shorts were lost minutes ago; hair is mussed, lips kiss-swollen. He tackles Cecil, pins him up against the wall and presses kisses to his belly button, to his stomach, grins at the way he giggles and squirms. The new apartment felt empty and barren in the process of moving in, without anything unpacked- too big, too hollow. Now, though, it feels perfect. It is home.

 

* * *

 

Cecil loves his feet and legs rubbed. He purrs like an overgrown cat at the attention, and Carlos adores lavishing it on him. He presses kisses to the bottom of Cecil's feet, earning a soft laugh,long-fingered hands through his hair.

* * *

 

 

He loves Carlos's chest. Loves the way the dark skin spreads, unblemished, taut and firm. Loves the color, loves the smoothness, loves the way it tastes as he runs his lips over it, loves the way the pert nipples feel when he kisses there softly. Loves the sound his lover makes best of all.

 

* * *

 

It is light, and soft, something he does without even thinking about it. Cecil is talking to Dana, swinging his legs childishly off the edge of the pier, about how nice it would be for water to be there. Maybe some fish, but Dana disagrees- she's not fond of fish. They're just _talking_ , about nothing important, but Cecil looks beautiful in the fading light and so perfectly happy and when he turns, says, _oh, hi, love_! In a chipper, enthusiastic voice, Carlos bends down and simply presses a soft kiss to the top of his head. Cecil blinks, then blushes, smiling wide. Perhaps it's romantic foolishness, but Carlos thinks it's more lovely then the sunset, lake or no lake.

 

* * *

 

Cecil _really_ doesn't have any sense of personal space. Carlos has come to accept this as just part of his reality now, and not a part he's all that adverse to...though Cecil's legs over his torsoe and feet in his face is not his favorite thing. He pushes them aside so Cecil's legs land in his lap, earning a whine and a wiggle.

 

“Cecil. Your feet were in my _face.”_

 _  
_“I have beautiful feet.” Muttered, into the couch cushion.

“That doesn't mean I want them _in my face_.”

 

Cecil turns his head to pout at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes, and presses a kiss to the back of Cecil's knee lightly. Cecil's pout turns into a grin, a giggle. “ _Don't.”_ He whines. “That _tickles_.”

 

So of course, Carlos does it again.

* * *

 

 

The first time they sleep together in the same bed, Carlos is disoriented and confused. He wakes up in a bed that his brain hasn't recognized as _his_ yet, with something warm and clinging wrapped around him. He's too hot, too crowded. There's warm breath on the back of his neck, and the blankets are tangled around his legs, and he has to pee, and he's falling off the edge, and for one, panicky moment he thinks _I can't do this, this is impossible_. He's uncomfortable and irritable and then-

 

-and then Cecil stirs, quietly, lets out a tiny, kittenish sound. The body wrapped around his luxuriously shifts, stretches, and his lover sighs, softly. Sits up on an elbow, blinking down at him. His short, sandy hair is mussed and sticking up in places, his eyes groggy, and a sleepy smile curves his lips up. One side of his face is smooshed and red from being slept on. He's in one of Carlos's shirts, and it hangs off his slender frame; distantly, Carlos remembers him grabbing it after a shower last night.

 

And all the fear and doubt melt away from his mind. He reaches up and brushes his hand over the mussed parts of Cecil's hair, over his cheek, and his lover tips his head into the touch. Lets Carlos pull him in for a soft, sleepy good-morning kiss. They both have morning breath and smell slightly of sweat. Cecil is too close, and the blankets are still too tangled. It's too warm, it's too stuffy, and his right leg is asleep.

 

He doesn't care at all.

 

* * *

 

Cecil is curled in his arms, happy as a kitten, staring out the window at the rain. It's a relaxing sound to go with a relaxing night, cool and calm, Cecil's hand stroking over his arm and hand and his head on Carlos's shoulder. The rain pounds out a rhythm on the roof, the tv hums softly in the background, and Cecil is falling asleep. So he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the broadcaster's lips, earning a smile and a sleepy hum of contentment.

 

It is four AM and Cecil can't sleep. It happens, sometimes. He's something of a nightowl by nature; which works well because Carlos tends to keep odd hours too. Tonight, though, Carlos is sleeping soundly, leaving Cecil awake and bored. (And more then a little irritated at his inability to fall asleep, as well as upset because he can't even stay in the _bed_ , because the glow of his laptop woke up Carlos who whined at him to go to _sleep_.)

 

So he's frustrated and upset, bored, lonely, and banished to the couch.

 

He's too wrapped up in his own misery to hear the soft footsteps.

 

Therefore, he startles rather violently when Carlos presses a kiss to the back of his neck, moves his feet out of the way and flops down at the foot of the sofa. He drops Cecil's feet back in his lap, leans his head back against the couch, and closes his eyes.

 

“I thought you were trying to sleep.” His voice is smaller then he wants it to be. He winces when he realizes it's thick with withheld tears; something that's apparently very obvious, because Carlos opens his eyes and worry- and _guilt_ \- streak across his face.

 

“I couldn't sleep without you.” He replies, soft and honest, and that does it; the tears spill over and Carlos chuckles softly. Reaches out to pull Cecil into his arms, pets his hair and kisses his head, his cheeks, kisses his lips softly. “Shhh, shh.” He whispers, fond affection and some amusement- gentle, loving- in his voice. “Oh, sweetheart.”

 

Cecil is distantly aware he's blubbering out something about being frustrated, about being stupid, about feeling lonely and rejected- feels Carlos rubbing his back and then abruptly his words are cut off by a firm, solid kiss. His tears are gently nudged away with a thumb.

 

“You are _not_ stupid.” The laughter is gone from his voice. His voice is firm, and he slips a hand under Cecil's chin to force him to meet his eyes. “I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

 

Cecil sniffles, rests his forehead against Carlos's. They spend the rest of the night watching stupid movies, cuddled up in a puppy pile on the sofa, until exhaustion catches up to Cecil at last. They wake in the morning sore, creaky, and Cecil falls off the edge of the couch- but they are both smiling all morning.

* * *

 

 

Cecil brings him food, sometimes. He's positive that Carlos doesn't take care of himself when he's working (and he's sort of right.) He brings him lunch, usually, or dinner after the broadcast is over, and once when he is setting the food down where he's sure Carlos can't ignore it he receives a little peck to his elbow in thanks. It makes him blush and smile, and Carlos look quite pleased with himself.

 

* * *

 

Cecil can not cook. It's just one of those facts of life; he's down-right dangerous in the kitchen. Generally, he's fine with this; he likes eating out, and he _loves_ Carlos cooking for him. But on their year anniversary, he wants to do something _special_. Carlos does so much for him, and he feels like he doesn't do enough in return.

 

So he calls Dana.

 

By the time they're done, the surprise is perfect (er ,after a few less perfect attempts.) And Carlos wakes to breakfast in bed and a beaming Cecil. The food is almost forgotten in favor of the deep kisses they share over the tray, one side appreciative and proud and the other shy and flustered.

* * *

 

 

Carlos tends to forget dates, even now. It's not something he does _deliberately t_ o hurt Cecil. He's just absent minded.

 

Still, it's nice when he looks around, prepared to be disappointed, and sees Carlos hurrying towards him through people. Grins and beams, greeting him with a kiss of _yay you came_ and _happy to see you_.

* * *

 

 

Cecil doesn't even know Carlos has come into the studio. He's upset and distracted, and he's fussing with his headset and then there are hands on his shoulders and lips on his own. He makes a startled, surprised noise, and feels his bad temper and stress drain away as he turns in the chair and wraps his arms around Carlos's neck.

 

* * *

 

 

One of Cecil's favorite things is when there is nothing to do and no where to go. When he and Carlos can simply _exist_ together, curled in each other's arms. He lays against Carlos's chest, and they kiss long and slow, lazy and lingering. They kiss, pull away just slightly, lips brushing together in something that is _almost_ a kiss, whisper lips over throats and collarbones and rest at pulse points before another butterfly kiss deepening into something luxurious and deep. They lay like that for hours, saying nothing, and communicating everything.

* * *

 

 

Cecil is worried about Koshekh. Downright _scared_. So even though Carlos allergic to cats, even though the strange, terrifying creature in the vet's office doesn't class as a cat to _Carlos's_ mind, he takes Cecil, covered in cat hair, and kisses him gently on the side of the head. Then he bends and kisses the cat, too. Because they're both hurt and they both need him.

 

* * *

 

Cecil and Carlos don't fight much; not _real_ fights. They might argue for a day or a couple hours, but they generally make up quickly and it almost always isn't serious. But while this isn't the first time Carlos has nearly been killed investigating the strangeness that is Nightvale, it _is_ the first time it was in the middle of a hostile takeover by a nefarious corporation, and when he finally finds Cecil again, he is greeted by a fist to the face.

  
“I thought I'd _lost you_.” He sobs, he _snarls_ , and then Carlos is being grabbed by the front of his shirt and hauled into a ferocious, aggressive kiss. His lower lip splits, their teeth knock together, and Cecil's other hand is in his hair, knotted, tangled, pulling and hurting and he can't even bring himself to care. “It's okay.” He whispers, when he can breathe, when he can speak. “It's okay, I'm here, I have you _I'm here_.”

 

And Cecil kisses him again- slightly less aggressively now- and cups his cheek where his fist connected and whispers _I hate you, I hate you, I love you, God, I love you, don't ever scare me like that again._

 

* * *

 

 


	6. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They will always be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeee, it's finished! I really appreciate everyone's lovely comments, and I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it! 
> 
> Sulfer Skies and Volcanic Winter aren't dead, by the way. Alex has just been busy and replies aren't coming as fast as they used to. Don't worry, though; we definatly have plans to finish both, and maybe something else, too!
> 
> For the record, I'm trying to talk Alex into starting a pair of IC blogs for Carlos and Cecil, and if we get enough interest. If anyone would like to see that, just gimme a head's up!

There is an amazing amount of laughter in their relationship. Like now, with Cecil's legs around Carlos's waist, arms around his neck. They are kissing, Carlos carrying him into the house, and as they cross the threshold Carlos trips. Cecil is much more slender but also much _taller_ , and it throws Carlos even further off balance. He tries to recover, fails, and they crash into the wall. Cecil's head _cracks_ into it, a picture tumbles down, and Carlos is instantly concerned, all _oh my God, are you okay?_ and Cecil is holding the back of his head but laughing. Carlos starts laughing too, and they butt foreheads lightly. Kiss again, still chuckling, Carlos now gently cupping the wounded part of Cecil's head.

 Only moments later, they are crashing down on the couch, tangled together and still laughing; they clunk foreheads, yelp in pain, and Carlos snorts helplessly, dropping his head to Cecil's shoulder as he sniggers.

 

“You're trying to kill me here.” Cecil laughs out, kissing the side of his neck, his cheek, stroking Carlos's hair fondly. Carlos tickles his ribs in playful retaliation, grinning as Cecil squirms and squeals, and they meet in another playful, laughing kiss. Carlos never imagined himself _laughing_ so much in a relationship; but he honestly never imagined _any_ of this, his life being this.

 

He never would have dared to hope he'd be so lucky.

* * *

 

 

 

Cecil cries. He cries when he's happy, sad, angry, hurt, frustrated, overjoyed, excited; it's just how he physically reacts. Most of the time it's silent tears, running down his cheeks, unnoticed and almost subconcious. Sometimes- rarely- it is racking sobs, face in his hands. It's not weakness, it's not softness, and depending on the reason for the tears Carlos either finds it charming and sweet or It breaks his heart. Either way, he takes Cecil's face in his hands, when it happens, kisses him softly. Kisses him deeply. Nuzzles his skin and soothes away the tears with the pad of a thumb. Murmurs love and affection and comfort and care into his skin.

* * *

 

 

Every once in a while it's the reverse of the norm. It is Carlos who is in tears, who just- can't handle it. Who is tired and stressed, in pain, exhausted, or just _sad_. Who can't see everything wonderful about himself. Carlos doesn't usually cry; his expression is more subtle and he often tries to keep Cecil from noticing at all. But Cecil notices _everything_ , and he certainly notices when his lover is upset. He leans in and presses soft kisses to Carlos's lips and cheeks, to his forehead and eyelids, comforting and gentle and soft, and whispers _I love you, you know,_ until Carlos smiles.

 

* * *

 

He can't quite believe they're doing this. Of course, horses, like _everything else_ in Nightvale, wouldn't be normal. Cats have poison spikes, and horses have _wings_ , apparently. Huge, feathery wings, and Carlos never, ever pictured himself feet above the earth, clinging to the mane of a massive, apperantly quite intellegent animal, Cecil's arms wound around his waist. His lover is laughing gleefully, and Carlos can't help but grin at the feel of the wind in his hair, Cecil's strong grip around his middle, the feelings of _amusement freedom love affection_ the 'animal' is projecting. (Carlos assumes it's some form of mild telepathy or maybe a very _strong_ form of empathy.)

 

He should be terrified.

 

Instead, he is _thrilled_.

 

And when Cecil shouts his name, he turns his head and meets his lover in a fierce kiss. His life is _so insane_ , and so _wonderful_.

* * *

 

 

Cecil jolts awake with a _shout_.

 

Carlos, beside him, startles awake just in time for Cecil to cry out again; it's panicked, terrified, and Carlos _dives_ for him.

 

It's not unusual, lately. Ever since Cecil 'woke up' to the spirit that lurks inside his mind, under his skin; he has horrific dreams, sometimes. They're usually of the future, or of _possible_ futures; sometimes he sobs, sometimes he screams.

 

It breaks Carlos's heart. It terrifies him, too. He doesn't know what Cecil sees that makes him scream like that. He doesn't _want_ to.

 

He grabs Cecil before the man can do something like lunging away, wraps his arms around Cecil's upper body and throws a leg over his waist. “Cecil, Cecil, stop, you're safe, you're fine-” He's saying, steadily, quickly. Pinning him like this usually works- it forces him to focus. Only once or twice has it ever made things worse, and those were _different_ kinds of nightmares. Kinds about his double and a tiny room with a double sided mirror and a broken arm and fear.

 

This, though, isn't that kind of nightmare, and Cecil jolts into reality with a gasp after a moment or two of struggle. He stares at Carlos with wide, frantic eyes for a moment, and then surges forward, The kiss is hard and desperate; Cecil wants to be comforted, reminded he is real, reminded he is _safe_ and home and real and _Cecil_ , and Carlos is all too happy to give that to him. He kisses, over and over, threading his hands through Cecil's hair and saying nothing; just holds him to his chest until he stops trembling.

* * *

 

 

Cecil talks. A lot. He babbles like a brook, almost no matter what mood he's in; Carlos has learned to tune a lot of it out, lets Cecil's voice wash over him like water, pleasant white noise. Today is no different. Cecil is in the lab with him, chattering away happily, and truthfully Carlos couldn't tell you what he was talking _about_ at all. Normally Cecil's voice is a very wanted and very pleasant soundtrack, but today he's trying to focus and he knows for a fact at least two assistants are trying for his attention.

 

So he leans over and simply presses a deep, lingering kiss to Cecil's lips. There is a _mmff!_ Of surprise, and then Cecil's eyes half-close and he sighs, melts into the kiss, into Carlos. He waits until he's sure Cecil isn't going to fall off the table he's perched on, and then pulls away with a small grin.

 

“What did you need?” He asks the assistant, as Cecil is silent, with a goofy, lop-sided smile and a pretty pink blush.

 

* * *

 

He is tired and worn out, and it's too damn early, and he doesn't want to move. But Carlos is calling him insistently, and keeps _shaking_ him, and he groans, rolling over. “ _Early_ ,” He moans, and Carlos laughs quietly, bends down and catches him in a kiss. Cecil sighs through his nose, hums approval. Very best way to wake up, he thinks, as Carlos sinks down onto the side of the bed.

 

* * *

 

Cecil doesn't have a _desk_ , per sey; but it's functionally the same. It's what he calls it; and it's in Carlos's way. So he simply leans over the side of it, pulls Cecil's chair out, and kisses him firmly. Cecil is surprised and a little alarmed, and _Carlos we're on air_ -

 

But he doesn't care. “Two years.” He says, simply, and watches Cecil's face change to delight and love and abruptly there's a _word from their sponsor_ and Cecil is in his arms.

* * *

 

 

Cecil likes bubblebaths. Cecil _really_ likes bubblebaths, and he tends to use more bubbles and less water then most people would call sensible.

 

“Manchild.” Carlos teases, when he sees the tub overflowing with bubbles and Cecil in the middle of it all. Bubbles stacked on his head and forming a 'beard'. Cecil pouts, and a handful of bubbles takes him full in the face.

 

He yelps, because he is _not_ naked, and wipes his face clean. He's forced to pull off his glasses, set them aside, and he can hear Cecil laughing. So he gently pulls off his coat, sets it aside, and _pounces_. Cecil yells, water and bubbles fly, and the next few minutes are spent wrestling playfully, laughing as they try not to injure one another. He manages to get his lover pinned, and they grin at each other for a moment before Cecil arches up, kisses him soft and slow. “Your clothes are all wet.” He whispers, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of Carlos's neck. “Don't you know how you're supposed to take a bath, Carlos?”

 

“Hmmm. It may be different in Nightvale.” Carlos teases back, grinning. “Why don't you make sure I do things the right way.” And Cecil laughs, kissing him again.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
